


Something to Remember Her By

by GreyWolf55



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWolf55/pseuds/GreyWolf55
Summary: The Gorillas meet another 'clone' team. Is there a link between their failed missions?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Non-canon characters are my own. Please do not use them in your own stories

##### England, July 1943

Garrison stuck his head around the common room door. Four heads looked up from what they were doing, waiting expectantly. Was this to be another mission or had their high spirits at the pub last night got them into trouble yet again. "Actor?"

Three faces relaxed immediately. Not their turn this time.

Actor carefully placed his pipe on the table, folded his newspaper and with a deep sigh made his way to Garrison's office. His 'boss' was already back behind the desk, looking intently at a document that was sat atop a pile of intelligence papers. "Have you heard of a con called Monaco?"

Actor thought for a moment whilst he ordered his thoughts. "Yes, but not for a long time, he disappeared about 8 years ago. He was very good when I knew of him, although not in my league of course. Is there any reason?"

Garrison smiled. He knew that Actor thought himself the best. The fact that he was willing to concede some degree of skill to someone else spoke well for the other con. "Well it looks like he's turned up again." The lieutenant turned the piece of paper and pushed it towards the Italian.

"Kingston Penitentiary? That's in Ontario isn't it? How did he end up in Canada I wonder?"

"Well, whatever it was it must have been serious. He was in the maximum security wing, so it can't just have been for taking a ladies necklace."

"If I remember his forte was industrial fraud. He didn't have my appreciation of fine art..." Actor pushed the paper back and waited for what was coming.

"It looks like our bosses have managed to put another team together, and this time they've got themselves a top class con. I get the impression that someone's been studying our team carefully and making sure they get some good people on board."

"So why is this the first we've heard of them? Are they still in training?"

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure they've been out there for a while, but someone's been keeping their existence very quiet. It explains a couple of jobs that the intel couldn't pin on any of the known teams, but they've been used sparingly as if they're being saved for something special."

Garrison's forehead was creased with thought and he seemed to have already forgotten his second's presence in the office.

Thoughtfully Actor took his leave. This could be interesting, but on the other hand perhaps it would be good for their team if they didn't have to go out quite so often.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Next day found Garrison summoned to HQ. It was no surprise. The weather was good, everyone was fit, there was no reason they hadn't been sent out days ago. He was surprised to find Major Richards waiting to brief him. That normally only happened if there was something out of the ordinary coming their way.

Richards pushed the briefing papers over to the Lieutenant. "This one should be a good one for your team - just the usual plans from a safe in a local HQ. Resistance tell us the building isn't guarded too heavily. Should be a cinch."

Inwardly Garrison cringed - it was always the easy ones that went wrong. It still didn't explain why Richards was doing the briefing. There had to be more to come.

Richards was well aware that the Lieutenant knew he was holding out. "The problem is getting you in there and out again. It's too far from the coast for a sub and so it'll have to be a parachute drop - but most of the C-47 transports are still out in North Africa. It looks like we'll be relying on a little British co-operation this time."

Garrison kept his face as expressionless as he could. His experience of 'co-operation' hadn't been going well of late. "What does it involve, Sir?"

The major smiled. "Don't worry, Lieutenant, it's not that bad. You'll be a hitching a ride in an RAF Halifax out of Gibralter Farm. It's already scheduled to drop another team in northern France. The RAF weren't happy about it, but they've agreed to fly on down to your drop site as well. Your pick up will be courtesy of the RAF as well. There's an airstrip that they should be able to get a plane into that's big enough for the 5 of you, we're just waiting on someone from the Resistance checking it out.

"Who are we going in with?" Garrison really hoped it wasn't regular Army guys. They'd probably never get off the ground before there was a fight.

"It's Captain Hayter and his men. They're another Special Forces team like yourselves."

"Cons?"

"Yes"

Great, thought Garrison, and this was supposed to be an easy mission. He picked up the papers and stowed them into his briefcase. He had just put his hand on the door handle to leave when Richards stopped him in his tracks. "Do you know where Gibralter Farm is?"

It was testament to the Lieutenant's churning mind that he hadn't thought that far ahead. "No, Sir, I don't."

"It's in Bedfordshire, near a village called Tempsford. You'll find it on the map, but don't worry, you won't be driving. You'll be picked up from the airfield here at 15:00. Does that leave you enough time to get your men together?"

"We'll be there."

##### 

GG GG GG GG

The noise of tyres crunching on gravel had Chief leaping to his feet to look out of the window. A chess piece toppled over and rolled slowly to the floor, unseen.

"Warden's got that case again. Wonder where they're sendin' us this time?" The Indian didn't look too bothered. One place was very much like another on their missions.

Garrison sprung lightly up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He was either in a hurry or pleased about something. The expression on his face pointed to the former.

"OK, briefing now. We leave in 2 hours." He didn't stop, but went straight to his office to drag out a map of England to join the maps of France he'd been given by Richards.

The briefing was quick. Nothing much differed between this mission and many that had gone before it, but they still took care to make sure every item was considered carefully. It was the small things that would make the difference between coming back or not.

"Not another ruddy parachute drop," complained Goniff.

"Too right babe, but the Lieutenant's right. They'd never get a sub into that town. There's no river for a start." The safe-cracker laughed at his own joke. "Look on the bright-side Goniff, at least you won't be sick for quite so long if you're flying." Casino hated parachuting too. Hated just waiting around for bullets to rip through him.

"Thought you said we don't fly out 'til tomorrow, Warden? How come we're going now?" Chief was the one to voice the difference. Actor had arrived at the same conclusion, but held his peace, waiting for the Lieutenant to tell them when he was ready.

"You're right, Chief. They can't get us a transport plane from our airbase here in time. They're a bit tied up in Sicily at the moment, so this time the RAF are taking us. We're being ferried up to this place this evening." Garrison pointed to the road map. He'd eventually found a small dot on the map that said Tempsford, but there was no mention of a Farm or signs of an airfield. "We'll be sharing the flight with another group."

Briefing at an end the other three drifted back to the common room, just leaving Actor perched with one buttock on the Lieutenant's desk. "Captain Hayter, you said?" The sound of Chief blaming Goniff for his missing queen could vaguely be heard in the distance.

Craig hadn't said, but then again Actor was adept at reading documents upside down and he had been the closest to the paperwork. "You know him?"

Garrison nodded briefly. "Maybe, if it's the same man. There was a Stuart Hayter a couple of years ahead of me at West Point. Had a reputation as a bit of a maverick, liked to do things his own way. I understood he'd been court-martialled, but if it is him this type of work might well suit him."

Actor found it ironic that the description the Lieutenant had just given could have been applied to his boss as easily as to the other man. He put the thought to one side. "Do you think this might be the mystery group we talked about yesterday?"

Craig was about to reply when the phone rang in the hallway. "Nut house." It was Goniff that had picked it up this time. Seconds later the little pick-pocket stuck his head around the office door. "It's the airbase for you Warden."

Garrison levered himself to his feet and went to take the call.

"Garrison speaking." He listened for a minute before replying. "Tell them to come to the Mansion, we'll put them up for the night." He put the phone down and turned to see his four men staring at him.

"Mission's off?" asked Goniff hopefully.

"No, just delayed. Our ferry has an oil leak. It'll have to be fixed before we leave."

"Why don't we just drive?" asked Casino. Now he knew they were going he just wanted to get moving.

"The other guys are stuck too. We can't go until they go and they'd rather fly in the morning than drive that distance with no headlights."

No-one could really argue the point.

"OK, Hayter can have my room, I'll take the spare. The other two can bunk on the floor in here."

"Only three of them?" Actor seemed surprised.

"Seems so. I guess we'll know a bit more when they get here." Garrison paused. "Who's on dinner tonight? I think we need something better than Army rations."

Craig looked at his men, but four sets of eyes wouldn't meet his gaze. It looked like the usual overcooked English fare that was all the Army cook could supply would have to suffice.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Twenty minutes later another crunch of wheels on gravel announced the arrival of their visitors, driving one of the jeeps from the base. Fortunately, although grey and overcast, it wasn't raining. Three tall men extricated themselves carefully from the vehicle and stood stretching on the driveway, before extracting their bags and making their way to the front door.

Goniff had elbowed Chief to one side to take a better look. "Blimey, that one in uniform, he could be the Warden's twin." Actor took advantage of his few extra inches of height to look over the top of the blonde man's head. The little Cockney wasn't wrong, there was a remarkable resemblance in looks between the two men.

The British sergeant-major had gone to meet the guests. "Lieutenant, Captain Hayter and..." He ground to a halt. The Captain had only introduced himself, not either of the two who accompanied him. Neither was in uniform, but both were wearing flying jackets over what looked like ordinary civilian dark grey pants. _Surely not. Not more cons._ The sergeant-major stepped aside to avoid being run down by Garrison who was advancing towards him with outstretched hand.

"Captain Hayter... Sir, Lieutenant Craig Garrison." Garrison had almost forgotten that his guest outranked him. If it wasn't for the circumstances around his life here they would have had the same rank.

"Thank you Craig, it's much appreciated you putting us up at short notice like this. Please call me Stuart. I'm not one for ceremony."

Even the voices were similar in timbre, although Hayter's accent was slightly different. Garrison found it hard to pin down.

The two men behind Hayter were both standing quietly, looking at Garrison's men with interest. "Gentlemen, two of my team, Monaco and Diesel.

So that's Monaco, thought Actor, looking at his fellow con-man with interest.

"Actor, Casino, Goniff, Chief." Garrison pointed to each of his four men in turn. Each nodded as their name was spoken, but none moved. They remained stood in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder.

Hayter turned to the man he had introduced as Diesel and said something quietly, causing the young man to leave the room. He returned a moment later carrying two bags which he placed on the floor. A chinking sound came from one as it settled. Casino tipped his head to one side, he knew the sound of bottles when he heard it. Maybe these guys would be OK.

"We know how hard it can be to get things around here, with the rationing, so we've rounded up a few supplies. We don't want to leave you short of food."

"Thank you Cap.. Stuart." Garrison appreciated the gesture, but if the Army was cooking tonight, it might be a wasted gesture.

"Actor, I have heard you are an excellent chef, perhaps if you join me in the kitchen we can produce something pleasant from what we have brought?" asked Monaco, quietly. He knew he was putting out a challenge to the other man, but was intrigued to see how he would react.

Actor was unsure of his response. Monaco was right, he was a good cook, but he had kept that fact from the others for months, preferring to go hungry on occasion rather than have to take his turn in the kitchen. Monaco was already picking up the bag of ingredients and looking quizzically at the other man. Although tall himself, Hayter's man still had to look up slightly to meet the Italian's eyes.

Actor decided that now was not the time for conflict. In fact, he was curious about the other con-man who had just reappeared so suddenly. He dipped his head slightly, "Of course, I would be happy to assist with what little skill I have. This way please." Actor led the way through to the kitchen and watched with pleasure from the doorway as the ingredients were carefully taken out and placed on the table.

Garrison had watched the by-play with interest. They could be well-matched these two. Certainly Monaco wasn't over-awed by the other man. If he was as cool in his work Hayter had found a good side-kick. "If you would like to follow me, gentlemen, I'll show you to your rooms. Captain, I've given you my quarters, I'm afraid we're a little short of space. We can put a camp bed in the other spare."

"There's no need Lieutenant, if you have two camp beds I'm happy to share."

"As you wish." Garrison kicked himself that he'd used the man's title again, but he wasn't comfortable with using first names with a man he's just met. He started to lead the way upstairs. Hayter spoke quietly, just loud enough that the others couldn't hear. "How about Hayter and Garrison. Forget the Stuart and Craig." He was smiling wryly, but seemed genuine enough about it. Maybe he was happier that way too.

Monaco emerged from the kitchen and he and Diesel followed Hayter and Garrison out of the room, leaving just the four behind in the common room.

"Well he certainly ain't scared of you Actor, is he?" The Indian moved the matchstick he was chewing to the other side, waiting to see what results his baiting would have, but was disappointed when the tall Italian simply sank into his favourite chair and picked up a newspaper.

"How about you then Indian? Looks like they've picked up another half-breed."

Chief leaped to his feet in anger, switch-blade appearing miraculously in his hand. Casino took a step back, making sure he had room to fight if need be.

"Knock it off, just for one night." Garrison was back in the room having delivered his guests to their room so they could wash up. "Goniff, Casino, go find a couple of beds for them. You know where they are." They would be the safe ones since Hayter hadn't brought anyone for them to compete against. The two wandered off, Goniff muttering complaints again about the unfairness of manual labour.

Casino cuffed him lightly on the head. "At least we might get fed tonight... and that other bag sounded interesting."

Garrison looked at Chief, who had retired to the stance he took up by the window when he was unhappy about something.

"OK, Chief, spit it out - what's wrong."

"Nuthin'"

"OK, well if it's 'nuthin'' lets keep it that way shall we?" 

"I think he's bothered that they've gone to the trouble of finding another Indian Scout." Actor's deep voice resonated from the depths of the chair.

"Yeah, I'm interested about this team too. I'm also wondering if there are any others and if so, where they are." Garrison had taken a seat on the arm of the chair Chief normally sat in. It left him facing the door, but looking at Actor he'd missed it when Hayter had re-entered the room.

"It's only fair I tell you the story. I don't want any fights between our men tonight. I knew I was taking a risk bringing them here tonight, but to be honest Garrison I was curious. Your team has quite a reputation. They're good... very good. I wanted to see with my own eyes how well my men matched up. Perhaps though we could leave the story-telling until after dinner?"

Actor took the implicit hint and unwound himself from the chair to go looking for Monaco. He found the other con-man already at work in the kitchen, chopping mushrooms. Cream, shallots, garlic, butter and a bottle of Calvados, plus a few other seasonings were laid out on the table. Monaco pulled a paper parcel out of the bag and unwrapped it to reveal a large fillet of beefsteak.

"Steak Diane?" questioned Actor, looking appreciatively at the steaks.

Monaco nodded.

Actor looked at him more closely. "And your plane only developed an oil leak half an hour before you got here?"

Monaco's face was expressionless as he started on the shallots. "If I do the sauce can you fry the steaks?"

Actor gave in. "Of course, it would be my pleasure." He took the heavy skillet off the shelf and set it to heat whilst he divided up the meat.

Thirty minutes later the two men emerged from the kitchen, bearing the dish of steaks, a bowl of the mushroom sauce and a heap of steamed cavolo nero. There was also a stack of bread rolls to fill any empty spaces. Hayter dug in the second bag and unearthed a couple of bottles of Bordeaux which he dumped unceremoniously on the table. "Dig in guys, I guess you're as hungry as we are."

Garrison looked at Actor and back at the food. Actor shrugged and mouthed "I don't know either." Clearly Hayter had been planning this visit for a little while.

There was silence as everyone fell on their food. Wherever the meat had come from it was good and it had been a long time since anyone had had steaks of that quality. Finally, even Goniff had eaten as much as he could. "I'm stuffed," he said, leaning back in his chair with appreciation.

Hayter stood and began clearing the dishes from the table. "Leave those in the kitchen, the Sergeant-Major can deal with them in the morning," Garrison advised. Hayter suddenly realised that he hadn't seen the Army man for some time. "I told him to take the night off, said there were things he didn't have clearance for."

Chief and Casino smiled at each other at the thought of Fletcher agreeing to take the night off so easily. Whilst smiling at Casino, Chief also accidentally met the gaze of the other Indian, who smiled in his turn. Diesel had barely spoken, just please and thank you when asked. It intrigued Chief, who was never one for speaking much himself.

"Mohawk." Diesel's voice when he spoke wasn't deep, but it was nicely pitched. He also had that slight soft accent that Hayter displayed.

"You're tall for Mohawk."

Diesel smiled again, happy to let Chief bait him slightly if he wanted to. He knew he was on the other man's territory and he wasn't about to challenge it. "I guess I had a tall daddy." Diesel was tall, probably a bit taller than Chief, although not by much. He was also slim and very fit with short dark hair, high cheekbones and that golden colour to his skin that spoke of his heritage.

Hayter had cleared the last dish from the table and replaced the Bordeaux with bottles of Bourbon and Brandy. It was a good brandy. Clearly the man knew Actor's preferences in these matters and wasn't above a bit of bribery.

Garrison knew when he was being conned, but so far this seemed pretty innocent and he was happy to run with it.

Hayter took his seat again at the table and waited until everyone had helped themselves to the bottles on the table. "OK, maybe we did know we had a little oil leak a while ago." He shrugged. "Just long enough to do a bit of extra shopping." He gave a cheeky smile and looked Garrison in the eye. The Lieutenant smiled too and gave him a half-salute with the bourbon. "Touché."

Suddenly Hayter was all business. He'd done all he could to make his hosts feel comfortable, now he needed to get to the point before the levels in the bottles got too low.

"I'm going to take a guess at your questions and give some quick answers. Once I'm done, feel free to ask any questions you want. If I can't answer, I won't, but as far as clearance goes Garrison, I'll treat your men the same way as I treat my own." Hayter looked at his fellow officer, who nodded to affirm.

"First, how long have we been out there and why haven't you heard of us? That one's easy - the team was put together early '43 and did their basic training in the US under a British guy. Not regular army, one of their special services people. I joined them a week or so later once I'd got over a little administrative issue I had to deal with."

Garrison knew about that 'administrative issue', but understood that the details wouldn't be for general discussion.

Monaco took up the story. "There were four of us then. We had a demolitions man called Hal and our 'thief' José, he was Mexican. Hal was second generation American with German parents. They were both very good."

"No safe-cracker?" It was hard to tell if Casino was pleased or not.

"José was pretty good at the simpler stuff and was getting more training as we went on. I think he'd have been very good, given time." That was Hayter taking up the story again. "We did a few simple missions in early '43, the same type of stuff you're doing at the moment - a quick in and out, just a few days, give everyone some confidence and get everyone working together. Then they sent us in on a long one, deep cover. The idea was to cut out the transport issues and cover multiple targets in the same trip. We tended to specialise in sabotage of one sort or another."

"The Warden likes to pick up extra jobs too, only ours aren't planned."

"Knock it off Goniff." There was a resignation in Garrison's voice that told Hayter that what the little Cockney had said was probably true.

Garrison picked up the Captain's use of the past tense in his story - clearly something had changed, but he would wait and see what came next.

"Our last trip was at the end of May. We'd been working down in Italy taking out a couple of installations. Everything had gone to plan, there was just one more to do and it should have been a piece of cake, taking out a gun battery. It was raining that day and pretty cold, so I don't know if that affected things but something went wrong whilst Hal was setting the explosives..." Hayter's voice trailed off, leaving the rest to everyone's imagination.

"Ouch," muttered Casino under his breath

"José quit as soon as we got back to the UK. He's back in the States now. We've been sat in Devon waiting for two new men. We got one of them a week or so ago and have done a couple of quick trips with him. He seems sound enough. He's a British Army engineer that we call 'Sapper' - I've given him a 48-hour pass to see his sister in London before we go. He'll take the train up to Bedfordshire. The other one is brand new - just met him the once so far. He's been training in Scotland and the MP's will deliver him for us. I'm told his name will be 'Magpie' and we got him out of Pentonville."

So that explained why there were only three and why there hadn't been much evidence of this team out there working. Garrison didn't envy Hayter starting again with untried people. He knew from their own experience that it was getting tougher out there. The Germans were getting better at infiltrating the networks and the collaborators were increasing too. War did that to people after a while. They got worn down and it was easier to work with their occupiers than against them, especially if the local commanders weren't the sadistic type.

Hayter looked at his watch. "If there are no more questions for now, perhaps you'll excuse us gentlemen, I think we'll get some sleep. We've had a long day. Can we leave around 9am tomorrow? I'm sorry it'll mean quite a bit of hanging around up there for you till it gets dark, but it can't be helped." The Captain looked to Garrison for confirmation and the Lieutenant nodded.

"Will you want breakfast?"

"If your breakfasts are like ours, I think we'll skip. We can get something at the base. Coffee would be good though."

"Fancy a run in the morning?" Chief was looking intently at Diesel as he asked, which in turn had the two officers catch each other's eyes. Garrison gave an almost imperceptible inclination of his head as did Hayter.

"If I can borrow kit, didn't bring any spare." Diesel looked pleased at the thought of being able to stretch his legs and he suspected Chief felt the same. Neither had drunk heavily that evening and both had been on their best behaviours, although Chief had chewed his way through several matchsticks.

"If I may be excused, Captain. I think my ankle might object to such strenuous activity." Monaco clearly had no intention of joining the two younger men. He wasn't exactly lying about his ankle either. He had twisted it in their last parachute drop and had no wish to risk it again until he had to.

"I'm happy to pass too on this occasion, Garrison." The Captain didn't want to get into a competition against the other officer - he'd noticed that the Lieutenant was favouring one leg slightly, although he'd been trying to cover it. Presumably a recent injury that wasn't quite healed. "I'd like to watch though."

"What about you Casino?" Goniff, somewhat bleary-eyed, nudged the safe-cracker in the ribs.

"Nah, not a hope babe. Shame their other guys aren't here though. We could've had a bet on it."

The Devon team took their leave, Diesel with just a small backward glance at the other Indian. Both men were smiling.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Seven am found not just the two protagonists out on the training area, but an interested audience of spectators. Even the sergeant-major, on hearing of the match had come out to watch. Garrison looked worried. He knew how competitive Chief was and he suspected the young Mohawk could give him a run for his money.

"How about the obstacle course today lads? That will give you a good work out. I reckon you two could probably break the record." Garrison looked at the Army man with approval. He might be a pain in the backside most of the time, but give him his due, he did know men and if this new lad was anything like Chief - and he looked like he might be - blood might get spilled.

Fletcher pulled his stopwatch from his pocket and waited.

"Awlrighty." Chief strolled to the start of the course and waited for Diesel to catch him up.

"Ready lads... " Both men crouched slightly, ready to sprint. "Go." Fletcher clicked the stopwatch and watched as the two sprinted off, racing side-by-side.

Over the first few obstacles there was nothing in it. Chief seemed a fraction faster on the flat ground but Diesel could jump higher and longer.

Clapping and cheering accompanied their progress. Garrison's men were clearly rooting for Chief, but there were enough neutral voices for Diesel not to feel disadvantaged.

Both men made short work of the nets. Next was the first wall, the biggest one. Diesel ran into the base of it and crouched, putting out his hands to throw the Navajo up and onto the top before grabbing the outstretched hand and hauling himself aloft too. He lost ground as Chief was up and gone before Diesel had finished flipping his body over. That put Chief at the front for the rope swing, which he cleared easily making sure that the swinging rope was within his rival's range before running on. Diesel made up ground when Chief slightly mistimed his leap over one of the ditches and one leg slipped back into the mud, then they were at the new second wall that boasted a mud-filled ditch in front. Chief jumped into the ditch and bent to let Diesel use his back as a springboard before being hauled up himself. They landed lightly together, then with a quick glance at each other, sprinted for the finish. Despite his mud-coated lower half it was a sprint that Chief won - just. Both men collapsed onto their backs, breathing hard, but laughing.

Casino and Goniff were jumping up and down with glee that their side had won.

"Hey man, that was close. Woo eee!" Chief was clearly exultant. Yes, he'd won but not by much and he'd had to give everything he had and just a bit more. Diesel rolled onto his knees and prised himself to his feet before putting out a hand to help the other Indian to his feet, a gesture that was accepted.

"Hope we get to do that again sometime," replied Diesel, still gasping slightly for air. "Guess I'm a bit out of shape at the moment." He looked down at his mud-spattered kit. "Sorry I got your stuff dirty."

Goniff and Casino looked at each other incredulously.

"It was worth it man, it was worth it. First time anybody's pushed me since I was a kid." The two men headed off for the showers, still chatting. Meanwhile the sergeant major looked at the number on the stopwatch. "Bloody hell," he said to himself quietly.

By the time the two Indians returned, clean now and both having calmed down to their more taciturn selves, the rest had packed the two vehicles and were ready to leave for the airfield. Hayter had warned Garrison that they would have to travel light.

The vehicles pulled into the base about 20 minutes later and were waved through security checks with a minimum of fuss. Both teams were known to the guards.

"Sorry guys, need to know how much you weigh before the pilot refuels. We're going to be on the limit for this one." Hayter was doing quick calculations in his head, but it was hard to be sure - these well-muscled men would probably come up heavier than they looked. He led them over to a nearby hanger where they were met by a slight, blonde man already dressed for the flight in his heavy trousers, boots and flying jacket. He had the scales ready and was making notes as each man stepped on in turn.

"Hey Beautiful, you've put on a bit haven't you?" Casino had been watching the numbers rise as Actor took his place. The tall Italian gave a disdainful sniff and ignored him.

"Room for a little one?" Goniff hopped on with alacrity, knowing that being overweight was not something anyone could accuse him of, however much he ate.

"All OK Harry?" asked Hayter as his pilot finished the calculations.

"Yep, we're good, providing there isn't too much of a headwind. I'll just get us topped up." Harry hurried off, waving at the small fuel bowser truck that was standing by. It stopped by a small bomber sporting RAF roundels and the usual khaki and brown livery, that was parked on the grass nearby. The plane was dwarfed by the big American bombers that surrounded it.

Garrison looked at Hayter. "Now I see why you were worried."

"I trust Harry. If he says we're good to go, then we'll be fine. He's been ferrying us from Devon since we started."

"I've not seen one of these before. What is it?" Garrison, an experienced pilot himself was clearly intrigued by the plane.

"Avro Anson. They use them a lot for training and as light transport. They're obsolete for front line combat so tend not to get redirected to other squadrons. Technically they only carry eight people including the crew, but this one has been stripped out a bit and Goniff's only small and so's Harry." Hayter glanced over at the little Cockney who seemed to have found a new friend in a pretty little WAAF who'd been passing by.

The fuel bowser trundled away and Harry waved everyone over. Goniff looked reluctant to leave his new acquaintance, but eventually said goodbye and joined the rest. It took a few minutes to stow all the gear and let everyone jostle for places - all of which had to be changed around as Harry made sure he had the heaviest men just where he wanted them.

"Where's Diesel going?" Chief had spotted that he wasn't in the cabin with them. He'd assumed that the Mohawk was just taking a last comfort break, but maybe not.

"He's taking the right-hand seat today. Harry's teaching him to fly when we get the chance."

Garrison saw the brief look of envy in Chief's face. He'd always wanted to see what it would feel like to take the controls, but the C-47's that were their usual transports weren't ideal trainers. And no-way would a USAAF crew let a con like him take a turn like Harry was doing for Diesel. Chief sighed heavily, making Hayter look around.

"Do you fly, Garrison?"

"Yeah, learned back in the States before I went to West Point." Garrison was much more experienced than he let on, but wasn't someone who scored points by bragging. He couldn't tell if Hayter could have piloted the plane himself or not. Either way he seemed happy to have Harry in control - but then again it was an RAF plane and someone would need to return it to its base once they were finished with it.

With the long runway, take off for the little Anson wasn't too much of an issue. Harry throttled back the twin engines as soon as he could. Saving fuel, thought Garrison. That was about the same point he realised he hadn't had breakfast and it was now mid-morning. They were used to missing meals on a mission, but not usually before they started.

Hayter must have had the same thought, as he reached below his seat and picked up a bag which held a towel-wrapped bundle and two flasks. "Breakfast? Bacon butties I think they call them over here?" He passed the package around the passengers. Even Goniff, who was quite prone to airsickness, took a package. The plane gave a quick lurch then steadied. Goniff looked longingly at what was in his hand then slipped it into his pocket. "Maybe when we get there."

Garrison breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry loosened his harness so he could turn to face his passengers. "Everyone OK?" That was when everyone realised that the small lurch had been caused by Diesel taking over. From where Garrison sat he could see the Mohawk biting his lip in concentration, but he was keeping the little bomber straight and level.

The steady drone of the engines lulled everyone except the pilots into a semi-doze as the English countryside slipped by below. It seemed no time at all, but was probably just over an hour, when Harry took back the controls from Diesel to start the approach into the airfield.

"Where is this?" asked Garrison, looking out of the side-windows.

"RAF Tempsford, but you won't find it on any of the maps. It's the base for the Special Duties Service squadrons. They operate most of the SOE pickups and drop offs from here." Hayter was looking out of his window too. "That's Hassell's Hall over there. It's where they put us up overnight if we're going out the next morning. I wouldn't suggest you stay there though unless you have to..." Garrison took the hint. He knew what damage his team had inflicted on the Mansion. This was likely far worse.

The Anson settled gently onto the concrete runway and taxied over to one of the hardstandings where Harry shut the engines down. "That's it boys, taxi service is complete. Tips in the box as you get out."

"Don't worry - that's his little joke, - advised Monaco, ignoring the box marked 'gratuities' that hung by the cabin door and climbing somewhat stiffly down the ladder. "Says it every trip."

It was cold on the airfield with a strong easterly breeze blowing across it. Nobody felt inclined to remove their jackets yet. A jeep, painted in British colours, was headed their way. "Throw your kit in the back," advised the Captain, "they'll transfer it to the Halifax. If you want to go over to the farm there's tea and stuff. Just need to find Sapper and Magpie and get our supplies packed." Hayter strolled purposefully off in the opposite direction, leaving the Garrison team to meander towards the Farmhouse. Goniff was finally able to make inroads on his 'bacon butty'.

Chief wandered up alongside Diesel. "How long ya been learning to fly?" He looked enviously back at the little Anson.

"About four months on and off, but don't get many chances. Most times we don't get to go up to London with the Captain, but Harry's pretty good over taking me up when there's a training flight. Can't land or take off yet though. Guess I'll have to wait 'til the war's over to learn that bit." Diesel gave a wry laugh. "You need to make sure one of your pick-ups comes into here instead of your airfield then get your Lieutenant to give Harry a call to be rescued."

Chief thought it unlikely, but it was something to bear in mind.

It took about 30 minutes for Hayter to locate his missing men. Sapper had been easy enough. He was perched on top of a pile of kit in one of the hangers. A Londoner like Goniff, he had a similar though less strong accent. He was still in his Army battledress and beret and looking frozen. He hopped down and standing to his full 5ft 9ins, saluted his CO smartly. Hayter waved a half salute in reply. That was one habit he needed to wean the man out of if he wasn't going to cause trouble in France.

"Any sign of the MP's with Magpie?"

"In the khasi." Sapper pointed in the general direction of a corrugated iron hut that presumably housed the urinals. The door opened revealing two military police flanking a small dark-haired young man. Seeing the American Captain, the MPs hurried over, dragging their charge with them. "Get yer hands off me," the young man protested in a strong Irish accent, trying to knock the men's hands off his arms but not succeeding.

"You can let him go," said Hayter with a sigh. "He won't get far if he runs."

Reluctantly the MPs released their grip leaving Magpie to brush down his sleeves with disgust and stroll nonchalantly over to join his new boss. Quickly Hayter signed the release papers. "Sapper, get that stuff over to the plane." Sapper's arm started to rise. "And if you salute me again I'll shoot you," commented Hayter as he turned to walk away.

"I think he might too," said the little Irishman as Sapper's arm clamped itself firmly against his side. He scurried off after the retreating back.

It took Hayter's team most of the afternoon to check and repack the stores they would be taking with them. That was the down-side of deep cover. Within the limits of what they could carry from the drop zone everything that would be needed for several weeks had to go too.

Eventually all that could be done was done and tiredly Hayter's team trooped back to the farmhouse to rejoin Garrison and his men. They had had a boring time of it but had occupied themselves in much the same way as they would have done at the Mansion - playing cards, reading, smoking cigarettes and bickering. Chief had gone AWOL, wandering around the base, but that was fine with Garrison - better that than him and Casino taking chunks out of each other.

Dinner was some sort of undefinable mess that masqueraded as a cottage pie. Actor couldn't help but compare it against the previous night's steak, but ate it anyway. It was fuel and they needed the energy for what was to come.

Goniff just hoped it wouldn't be a rough flight - it was bad enough looking at the pie in it's pristine state. He didn't want to see it a second time.

Dinner complete there was nothing more to do except watch the hands on the clock tick towards 8:00. All except the two Indians were pulling on yet more cigarettes.

"Guess that's sumthin' else we have in common," commented Chief, tipping his head towards Casino and Goniff who were lighting new fags from the butt end of their previous ones. The Navajo was playing with one of his knives as he spoke, carving the outline of a running horse into the top of the table in front of him.

"Messes up my sense of smell," agreed Diesel, looking with interest at the wristband that had held the other man's knife. "That's clever. Never seen that before."

Chief looked at his arm then shutting the blade snapped it back into its holder and demonstrated how fast he could retrieve it again. "Made it myself. Slowed me down too much getting it out of my boot or my pocket."

"Nice knife." Diesel pulled his own from his pocket and they swapped them over for inspection. Diesel held it briefly, balanced on his finger tips before handing it back. "Good balance too."

"Keep it. I've got enough with me."

Diesel shook his head and accepted his own blade back. "I appreciate the offer, don't get me wrong, but I wouldn't do it justice. Maybe if we meet up back in the UK I'll take you up on it though."

"OK everybody, Hayter's on his way over, looks like we're on our way." Garrison stubbed out his cigarette. He wanted get on their way now. There'd been too much hanging around so far and they had a long way to go. Hayter ducked briefly into the bathrooms leaving Monaco keeping an eye on Magpie.

"That their thief, d'you reckon?" whispered Goniff to Casino. "He looks like a jockey. Wonder how old he is? Bet he was popular in stir."

Hayter caught the tail end of the conversation. "He's 18 and from what I gather from the deputy-warden he dealt with any assaults of that manner quite effectively." A couple of hand-signals effectively described what had been done. Casino's face reflected his own discomfort at what had been pantomimed.

"Wonder where he got the blade?" hypothesised Goniff, looking at the young man with more respect.

Out on the one of the stands, a Halifax bomber was starting its engines. Each one giving off the distinctive note of its Rolls Royce Merlin engine. "Our transport I assume, Warden?" asked Actor, adjusting his jacket collar in the reflection offered by a large picture.

"Looks that way," his CO replied, leading the way back out onto the windy airfield.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Despite the size of the Halifax it was still a tight fit, as in addition to the ten passengers, the hull was also packed with supply 'torpedoes' - the coffin shaped boxes that were used to deliver food, ammunition and the myriad of other supplies needed to support the mish-mash of Resistance groups operating in France. Each torpedo was hooked up to its own static line.

Goniff looked at the spaghetti of ropes. "It's like a bloody maypole dance." He went to pick at one of them.

"You leave them lines alone," shouted a voice from somewhere up the front of the plane, "unless you want a special delivery of your own." Goniff carefully dropped the strap he'd been about to examine.

The crew member stepped carefully over the cargo. "OK, which group is Hayter's?" He didn't wait to find out, but moved on to pointing out the 5 unused static lines nearest to the exit. "These are yours and the boxes right behind them are your supplies. You choose which order you go in. I'll tell you when to hook up. No need to be hanging around until we get nearer. We'll see to your supplies. They'll come out next."

He paused for breath. "Garrison? These five are yours. I understand you'll be carrying your kit with you?"

"That's right. We're travelling light." He would have liked to have had a supply box, but the chance of it getting lost was greater than the risk of his men jumping with heavy packs.

"Any questions?" Ten heads made a negative response. Outside, the heavy bomber was already on the move, taxiing to its take-off point. A short while later it was rumbling down the runway, the labouring engines on full power as it heaved itself into the air. They were on their way.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Despite taking a roundabout route to avoid the worst of the German defences, with a top speed on 280 miles an hour, it didn't take very long for the bomber to reach the drop zone for Hayter's group. Hayter had stripped out of his uniform and donned the civilian clothes he would be wearing for landing, as had Sapper. Their uniforms would stay on the plane. As usual, Diesel and Monaco would go first, then Sapper, Magpie and finally Hayter. It would be the young Irishman's first operational drop and the Captain wanted to be as close to him as he could in case anything went wrong.

"Don't worry mate, I'll give you a kick up the backside if you can't make yourself jump." Goniff was quite enjoying himself. It was nice to have someone else to wind up for a change and it seemed on their first exchanges that Magpie enjoyed a bit of 'the crack' too.

Only Monaco was complaining as they lined up. He was trying to adjust the harness, which was pinching parts of his anatomy uncomfortably. It would only get worse once his full weight was on the straps. "You really would have thought they'd have come up with a better design by now." A snort from Actor was quickly suppressed. He knew exactly what the other con-man was thinking. Casino was about to make a clever remark, then thought better of it. He might not meet Monaco again, but Actor would certainly get his retribution later.

On the orders from the load master, five bodies disappeared into the sky followed by the 'torpedoes'. Garrison took a deep breath to calm his own butterflies.

"Hope they make it," commented Chief, watching the crew member pull the door shut and check that all was still in place. "I liked them."

Garrison had liked them too. He still hadn't found out what the younger maverick officer had done to prompt his court-martial, but suspected it was something similar to his own situation. The fact that he hadn't lost his stripes either pointed to friends in very high places or massively extenuating circumstances. Probably both, he thought. All he'd been told in a muttered aside whilst watching Chief and Diesel pit themselves against each other that morning was "They're not the only ones that will get a parole if we come out of this alive."


	2. Chapter 2

"How long're they out there for?" Casino settled himself more comfortably into the extra space now the others were gone and lit a cigarette.

"Two or three months he thought, but it depends on what targets they're given and how much reconnaissance is needed." Garrison was only half paying attention to his men, his mind already moving ahead to their own mission.

"D'you think they'll do the same with us?" asked Goniff curiously.

"Doubt it, babe. We get shot too often," Casino retorted. "How often do we come back without at least one of us needing to be doctored by Beautiful over there."

"At least I can patch you up so you can get home," acknowledged Actor. "From what I can tell they don't have anyone with that skill."

It was a sobering thought and one that Garrison needed to stop his men from brooding on. "OK, let's go over the plan again. Make sure everyone knows what they're doing."

##### 

GG GG GG GG

The parachute jump pretty much went to plan. Casino had landed in a stream, much to the entertainment of Goniff who got a clout round the ears when he went to help, but no-one was hurt. The parachutes were bundled into bushes and hidden as best they could.

Such a waste of the silk thought Actor, but it couldn't be helped.

Casino perched on a rock and emptied water out of one boot. "Great. Now I've gotta walk 10 miles with wet feet."

A slight rustle of dried grass presaged the return of Chief. "All clear. Got the place to ourselves."

"OK let's go. We've a few miles to cover before dawn." Garrison picked up his machine gun and made sure his pack was settled comfortably on his shoulders and set out at a fair pace paralleling the line of the stream. His men followed in single file, alert as always for danger.

The breaking of dawn saw the group wading yet another stream before creeping along a field margin to a tumbledown barn. It was going to be a very hot day.

A quick check showed they had the place to themselves. There was a big heap of clean straw in one corner, but no other facilities including water. That might be a problem if the day was going to be as hot as seemed likely. Goniff threw himself down on the straw with relief. "What happened to getting a car, Warden? I'm bushed." 

Garrison gave him one of those 'looks' then turned his attention to excavating a map from his pack. He squatted and spread the piece of silk on the chaff-covered floor. Actor joined him to inspect the plan.

The Lieutenant pointed to a dot. "We're here and this is where we're going." He pointed to another much bigger blob. "It's a shale-oil refinery and it's supplying a lot of petrol to the German Army. An SOE team tried to sabotage it back in April but it was too well guarded. We're going to try again."

"That's suicide, Warden." Casino didn't need to look at the map to know this was one mission he didn't want to be part of.

"But you like blowin' things up. This one's right up your street, ain't it Chiefy?"

The Indian was leaning against the broken-down wall that faced out over the nearby field, showing little interest in either the map or the conversation. With a sigh he turned back to join the others that were staring at Garrison's plan. He knew from experience that this was where his boss would start drawing diagrams in the dirt.

Half an hour later they had their outline plan. The detail would have to wait until they'd completed their reconnaissance.

Garrison drained the last of the water from his canteen. Dehydration might be a problem on this mission, but he couldn't see a way around it. The streams they'd passed through in the night hadn't been clean enough to risk topping up canteens. It looked like they might get hungry too - they were all carrying more C3 explosive than K-rations on this trip.

The Lieutenant suddenly realised that his Scout was missing, not an unusual occurrence in itself, but it made him wary. Perhaps he'd just gone to relieve himself he thought, as he started to make a bed for himself. Goniff was already asleep, snoring softly. It was amazing how the Limey could drop asleep at the drop of a hat, even in the middle of a mission.

Minutes later Chief was back, holding a full canteen of water in his hands. "Figured there had to be a spring nearby," he commented, giving the full bottle to Garrison and collecting the empty ones. "I'll top up these then take first watch."

They would have a long wait until it was dark enough to risk moving again. Twilight wasn't until about 22:00 at this time of year, which made covert operations difficult. In the end they moved on whilst it was still daylight banking on the fact that they were keeping well away from any habitations. Before leaving they'd buried the empty ration packs and endeavoured to hide any evidence of their occupation.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

They reached their target the next day and set up home in the loft of a small safe-house supplied by the local Resistance. It was cramped for the five and tempers were soon fraying, partly from hunger and partly nicotine withdrawal.

"You're going to tell us we can't smoke here either aren't you Warden?" moaned Casino.

"In this case I don't think it's going to make much difference, Casino," commented Garrison, pulling out a cigarette of his own and lighting it. They were downwind of the refinery and all it was possible to smell at the moment was the tar and oil fumes being given off by the installation.

"I wouldn't want to live here full time." Actor was finding the fumes were giving him a headache. Something he could do without if he had a con to perform.

A tap on the door brought everyone to their feet, weapons at the ready. Chief as usual took up his stance by the door."

"Entrez."

The door was pushed tentatively open and a young girl, about twelve years of age came into the room. She seemed unfazed by the armoured men facing her. She just placed her basket on the rickety table and started unpacking it's contents.

"Je suis désolée, nous n'avons pas grand chose pour vous tous, seulement du pain et du fromage."

With a little bob the girl left as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Actor to investigate the items she had left on the table. He picked up the cheese and sniffed it appreciatively. "Montrachet. All it needs is a good white Burgundy to go with it."

"Montra what?" asked Goniff, taking a sniff of his own and pulling a face.

"Montrachet. It's a young goat's cheese."

Goniff tore off a piece of bread and then tentatively a bit of the cheese. "Tastes better than it smells," he conceded, diving in to secure his share before anyone else could get it.

"No class," murmured Actor, standing back to let Chief divide up the remaining food with one of his older knives.

It didn't take long to finish eating. It had filled a space, but everyone was still hungry. Unfortunately that was the norm on most of these missions. They had all lost weight since joining Special Operations.

Garrison pushed his chair back and stood up. "Chief, Casino come with me. We'll go for a little walk, see what we can see. Goniff, Actor same for you but maybe check out food supplies at the plant. See if there's anything you could liberate."

##### 

GG GG GG GG

The two groups had contrasting successes. As suspected the plant was extensively guarded and Garrison had not been able to spot any weakness in the defences. Actor and Goniff however had been more successful. "Looks like there's a food truck supplies the base every day. It comes in from Autun and from what I found out they don't always have the same drivers," Actor supplied. "They stop just outside the town here for a break before going into the base. I think we might be able to persuade them to loan us their vehicle?"

"Will it be safe for the people here?" There had been a spate of executions of local people recently in retaliation for attacks on German installations. Whilst there was often collateral damage from their operations the Lieutenant wanted to avoid it if at all possible.

"Nothing is ever safe," replied the conman. "But I think it is a risk worth taking. We were able to secure some supplies as well today. The men really were very careless... we left them with our contact's wife. She assured me that she could make a very acceptable dinner for everyone tonight."

The evening meal turned out to be a vegetable stew flavoured with tiny amounts of finely chopped sausage and herbs, but it was tasty and filling and definitely everyone settled down for the night in a much better frame of mind to that in which they'd arrived.

Day three dawned with everyone in a heightened state of anticipation. It had been decided that Actor and Chief would take the place of the drivers, with Casino hidden behind the boxes. Garrison and Goniff would stay on the perimeter of the site. If a diversion was required they would provide it. As predicted by Actor the supply truck was easily secured and the two drivers tied up in the woods. They would be released later by the Resistance.

The German guards were lax about checking the truck. It was the same vehicle they saw every day, it was stiflingly hot and they just wanted to get back under cover. They didn't see Casino jump out as the truck rolled past one of the huts. Within seconds he was hidden from view. Now came the difficult bit - how to secure the explosive packs to the fuel storage tanks without being seen. Chief had parked the truck in the same place Actor has observed it the previous day. Both he and Actor wandered nonchalantly to one side, watching whilst the catering people unloaded the cargo. They knew what was coming next and wanted to be out of range.

A drum of olive oil blew up splattering all within range with the slippery yellow substance. As anticipated, guards came running expecting sabotage only to find what appeared to be just a drum that had exploded in the heat. No-one was hurt, the guards found the whole thing very funny - unlike the catering people who now needed to get cleaned up.

Actor had slipped into his usual role of disgruntled driver, insisting that the guards finish unloading the truck. It wasn't his fault that the drum had exploded. He had a schedule to keep. As was so often the case, he got his way and fifteen minutes later the truck was heading back to Autun, Casino now hidden under a tarpaulin in the back.

They abandoned the truck at it's usual stop-over place and walked quietly back into town. "Did you get the charges on?" asked Chief, chewing thoughtfully on a new blade of grass.

"No sweat. Piece of cake." Casino looked pleased with himself. "Timers should go off in about 2 hours."

Actor just looked pleased. It had gone without a hitch and not many missions did that.

"Ready to go?" Garrison had appeared at his side.

"Shame we won't be around to see it blow," mourned Casino.

"You and your bloody pyrotechnics." Goniff for one wanted to be well away before anything resembling an explosion took place.

With a quick check to make sure the coast was clear, the five melted into the undergrowth. Next stop the airstrip and England - hopefully.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

"Here, thought you might like to see these." Major Richards thrust a bunch of black and white photographs into Garrison's hands. They were aerial reconnaissance pictures from the refinery site. They showed clear signs of damage to some of the tanks but no evidence of the destruction that had been hoped for.

"Well, we tried," said Garrison philosophically. He eyed the new set of papers on his bosses desk. "What's next on the agenda?"


	3. Chapter 3

##### Occupied France November 1943

Four months later...

"Car." Chief dropped the blackout curtain he had been peering around and slipping off the window ledge moved silently to guard the front door. Garrison blew out the single hurricane lamp that had been providing light for the five and took up his own defensive position. The other three had done the same and were now pointing their pistols towards the entrance.

A coded rap on the door was followed by someone whispering the password "Rossignol". No-one answered. The outside door was opened a little and the visitor tentatively slid inside the room. She could feel that there were people there, she could hear their gentle breathing and the slight rustle of clothing. She could also smell them, a mix of cigarette smoke and sweat.

The visitor pushed the door closed behind her and stood waiting patiently, trying to control her fear and only partially succeeding. Until the counter-password was offered she didn't know if she was facing a room full of Nazi's or the Allied agents she was meant to be meeting.

"Falcon." It was the counter-password and the Resistance agent took a deep, steadying breath of relief. Still, she waited unmoving until finally the rasp of a match signaled the hurricane lamp was being relit.

The dim light revealed to the team a middle-aged woman dressed in a heavy skirt and boots. Her shawl was wrapped around her shoulders and head. It had been raining outside and the shawl was wet and dripping.

"Garrison, the plane should be here in ten minutes. I will take you to the landing strip but there was a message for you from my control. He says there will be new instructions for you from the pilot. Come, we must hurry."

The agent turned quickly and made to return to her vehicle. She glanced briefly at Chief whose knife was still held inches from where her neck had been. "Tch," she muttered under her breath. Boys, all of them.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

The RAF Hudson made a neat touchdown on the improvised landing strip and repositioned itself for take-off. The Resistance men who had lit the landing lights merged back into the tree-line leaving just the five 'boys' to climb aboard their transport. The cabin door, positioned just forward of the RAF roundels, was flung open and a short ladder was flicked downward by a young man wearing a flying suit and leather jacket.

Casino led the rush to the aircraft and climbed quickly aboard, followed closely by Goniff and Chief. Actor and Garrison hung back slightly. There was no point boarding if the new instructions meant a change of plan.

"Garrison?" The man who'd opened the door called out quietly. "Orders for you." He held out a piece of folded paper and shone a shielded torch onto it so that the Lieutenant could read what it said.

"Sh....oot." The American quickly modified what he'd been about to say, earning him a smirk from his second-in-command that he couldn't see. "Looks like I'll be missing this flight, guys. See you back at the Mansion."

"Lieutenant?" Actor was looking concerned at the idea of leaving his CO behind.

"Sorry Actor, we can't risk it. You need to get those plans back to the war office. There'll be another pick-up tomorrow night."

The Hudson airman was starting to get agitated - they'd been on the ground too long. Reluctantly Actor took the proffered oilskin-wrapped package from the Lieutenant and somewhat stiffly hauled himself aboard. Seconds later the bomber was on its way back to England, leaving a rather wet officer standing alone in a field in France.

"Garrison?" It was the woman who had brought them from the safe-house. He thought she'd left along with the other Resistance people, but she must have just been hiding in the trees. "I am to take you to another house for the night. We will arrange for you to meet the contact tomorrow then bring you back here once it gets dark." She was already on her way, trusting that she would be followed.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

"Trust Garrison to find another mission. Why's he never satisfied with one," moaned Casino.

"Could be worse mate. They might have wanted all of us. As it is we get a day off tomorrow, and there's that nice little barmaid at the Doves..." Goniff's voice trailed off as he sank into reverie about what he and the 'nice little barmaid' might do, should the occasion arise.

The drone of the engines covered whatever Chief might have said about the matter under his breath.

Actor remained silent, absently stroking the package that he still held in his hands. It was odd for the group to be redirected mid-mission like this. They would normally have been allowed at least to get their feet under the table at the Mansion before they were sent out again. Whatever it was that Garrison had been sent to do, it must have come up pretty fast and be something that only required one man to do it. Personally Actor would have preferred that it had been him, rather than the Lieutenant, that had been left behind, but Casino was right - Garrison was always up for a little more excitement.

An hour and a half later, after a cold but otherwise uneventful flight, the aircraft landed. The navigator came back from the cockpit. "You guys must have some clout. Delivery right to your door." He thrust open the cabin door, letting in a blast of cold night air mixed with aviation fuel. USAAF bombers could vaguely be seen lined up in the distance. Yes, it looked like they'd been flown to the local base. At least they didn't have to worry about getting back from Bedfordshire this time.

Stiffly everyone climbed down.

"What now?" asked Casino, shouldering one of the kitbags. It was a futile question really - he knew that Actor knew no more that he did.

A jeep detached itself from the cluster of buildings that housed the barracks and canteen and made its way towards the Hudson which was sitting there with its engines still running. "Taxi service."

"Good evening Nick," Actor greeted the grinning Corporal who was at the wheel. He looked remarkably cheerful for someone who'd been dragged out on a chilly night. The Hudson was already making its preparations for departure. No doubt its crew were wanting to get home to their dinners and maybe a pint if they weren't flying again too soon.

The four climbed aboard, rearranging bodies as best they could. Actor appropriated the spare front seat as he always did. The more space he could get for his long legs, the better.

Twenty minutes later they were home. A sergeant met them at the door. "There's some stew in the warming oven and a note from HQ saying they'll send someone up for your package in the morning." He half-saluted Actor before realising he wasn't addressing an officer. "I'll say goodnight then."

"Hope it's not spam again." Goniff was already heading for the kitchen to investigate.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Back in France, Garrison sat quietly alongside his escort whilst he was driven to a house he hadn't seen before. It was situated in the middle of a small village, typical of so many villages in rural France - just a row of houses sat side-by-side along a single road. There were a couple of frontages that indicated there might be shops lurking within, but it was hard to tell in the dark. The street was deserted.

The car pulled into an alley part way along the street and the driver killed the engine. The woman didn't seem concerned about being out after curfew, the Lieutenant thought. "I'm a midwife," she explained. "Everyone is used to me coming and going at odd hours." She led the way through a wooden gate to the back of one of the properties. "The privy is down there if you need it." She pointed towards a hut at the bottom of the garden. "Come into the kitchen and I'll have some food for you."

A little while later, having partaken of bread, cheese, saucisson and a glass of rough red wine, Garrison made his way to the pallet he'd been offered in the loft. "No cigarettes, monsieur. Everyone knows I don't smoke. Your men should remember that - I could smell them from the woods and that house was meant to be empty."

She had a point, he thought. He tended to forget since it was such a strong habit with all his men - except Chief.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

It was late morning before the contact arrived. A dozen times Garrison had reached for his cigarettes before stopping his straying hand. It was interesting this little cell, he thought, going about their everyday business under the noses of the Nazis. By not behaving clandestinely they didn't attract attention. The contact must have been the baker - he'd thrown open the front door, thrust a baguette through the gap along with a cheery 'Bonjour' and disappeared.

The midwife retrieved the paper-wrapped stick of bread and carried it to the kitchen. She called up the ladder. "Delivery."

Carefully Garrison descended the steep steps to join her. She had a bread-knife in her hands and was in the process of prising apart the paste that held the stick together. From the hollowed-out interior she extracted a piece of paper and handed it to her guest, at the same time grabbing her medical bag from a kitchen chair. She snatched a chunk of crust from the dismembered bread and thrust it into her mouth. "I'll be back at dusk. In the meantime make yourself at home." She swept out of the room, leaving a somewhat perplexed Lieutenant grasping his information in one hand and a piece of bread in the other.

Garrison retired to the loft to read and enjoy his lunch. The intelligence should have been straightforward, but he was quickly gripped by its content. It was the transcript of an interrogation - of a US officer. Not just an officer - one that he'd met before. Now he knew why it had had to be him that they'd sent back to retrieve the intel.

The wait until his midwife returned seemed interminable, but eventually the light faded and he heard the unmistakable sound of the engine of her car outside the house. She was typically brusque as she entered the kitchen. "Five minutes. You know where it is. I'll be in the car when you're ready." The midwife exchanged her coat for the shawl, thrust her bag under the table and waltzed out of the door again.

Garrison followed her more slowly, feeling like he was 6 years old and this was his mother. Nevertheless he followed her directions. There were times when it didn't pay to need to commune with a tree.

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Was it only 24 hours since he had last stood in this field waiting for his transport to arrive? It felt longer. Tonight there was bright moonlight. It made it easy to pick out the two Resistance men preparing to light the A, B and C lights to guide in the aircraft. It also made everything a good target for any German patrols or anti-aircraft batteries.

Garrison reached automatically for a cigarette then stopped yet again. The craving was getting worse, but he wouldn't give the midwife the satisfaction of knowing he couldn't control his habit.

At last he heard the sound he'd been waiting for - the low drone of an aircraft engine. Not the Hudson they'd sent for the team last time, he could be sure of that. A morse-code signal was flashed by the incoming plane, presumably answering one from the ground. Once the signals were acknowledged the three landing lamps were lit and within seconds the high-winged, single-engined plane settled onto the field, turned, and back-tracked to where the Lieutenant waited hidden in the trees.

"Go." A push on his shoulder from the midwife sent Garrison scurrying bent-backed across the grass and vaulting into the open cabin door. The plane was already taking off again before the Lieutenant had made himself secure. Carefully he tucked himself into a comfortable spot and tried to doze, but he wasn't really tired. He was also very aware that he'd been wearing the same kit for five days now - if he could smell the odour of unwashed body then he'd better make sure he didn't get too close to anyone until he'd had a good shower.

The Lysander flew steadily onwards, staying low to avoid being picked up on radar and covering a zig-zag course to miss German defences. Their luck was in that night and after an hour or so the plane started to drop even lower. Garrison looked at his watch, the phosphorescent numbers glowing clearly on his wrist. Instinct told him that this wasn't an airfield he'd flown into before - there'd been water under the wings only seconds before, so where was it?

"RAF Tangmere." It was the first time the pilot had spoken, he'd been concentrating too hard until now. There was relief in his voice. It was one more operation ticked off safely and one more agent returned to the UK in one piece. Now a cup of tea in the NAAFI and a nap in the officers quarters beckoned before he had to fly the plane back to base.

A man in RAF uniform was making his way across the concrete towards them from the H-shaped barrack block. He carried a holdall of some sort in his right hand. "Lieutenant Garrison?"

The American officer jumped to the ground, stretching his head to left and right to ease the cramps from his neck and shoulders. "Yeah, I'm Garrison."

"This way Sir, I've been told you have fifteen minutes before your next flight leaves. Heads and showers are on the ground floor and they've sent you a uniform. The man thrust the holdall into Garrison's hand, executed a half-salute and immediately turned his attention to the pilot who was just finishing making his charge comfortable for the night. Refueling could wait until the morning.

"Garrison?" Another English voice with a west-country accent came from his right, making the Lieutenant jump slightly. Turning he could see a thatch of blonde hair and RAF flying suit and jacket.

"Harry? What the hell's going on?" The Anson pilot that he had last seen in Bedfordshire was the last person he'd expected to see here.

"Taxi to London. Understand they need you up there pronto and I drew the short straw." Harry sniffed slightly. "Better get that shower - you're a bit ripe."

Garrison laughed and headed for the bathrooms.

Cold water was better than no water he concluded as he towelled himself down quickly and climbed into the uniform in the holdall. It wasn't one of his own, but it fit well enough. At least it was clean even if it didn't have any shoulder flashes. He looked at his discarded clothes and decided to leave them where they were - someone might find a use for them once they'd been washed.

Back out on the concrete he could hear the engines of the twin-engined bomber were already started and had settled into a steady tick-over. At least it made it easy to know where to go next.

Two men were already settled in the body of the aircraft. One was lying full length on one of the bench seats, his back turned towards the cabin door, his face hidden from the Lieutenant's gaze. An American voice spoke from the shadows on his right. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world you walk into mine. Hello again Garrison. Glad to see you made it this far."

"Hayter!" This was getting stranger by the minute. He looked closer at the man feigning sleep on the bench. It had to be Diesel. He had seen Chief do exactly the same when he was somewhere he didn't want to be.

Garrison felt warmth as something was thrust into his hand. "Coffee and there's a sandwich in the bag." A light weight on his thighs told him Hayter had deposited the food in his lap. Despite the moonlight outside most of the cabin was in shadow.

"You been waiting long?"

"About 30 minutes. Just enough to shower and persuade a pretty little WAAF that the Yanks were starving." Hayter chuckled quietly. It had probably been Diesel's brooding looks that had swung the balance in their favour.

"Any idea what this is about?"

"Nope. First time on English soil for four months. Normally get at least one night's sleep before they debrief us."

Garrison would have agreed but the rising noise of the engines drowned out any further chance of conversation. The co-pilot's seat was empty tonight and Garrison was tempted to make it his own, but in the end stayed where he was. Instead he took a bite of sandwich and swilled it down with the luke-warm drink. Time would tell what was behind the hurry.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't far from Tangmere to their destination north of London, so it wasn't long before the little plane started her descent. The Anson trundled to a halt and taxied her way off the runway. Harry shut down the engines, shook off his harness and wriggled out of the cockpit.

It was a good thing Harry was so small, thought Garrison. It was a tight fit up front. He doubted if two men of his own size could have fit alongside each other without their shoulders being pressed together.

A staff car was waiting alongside, with a female driver. From her uniform if looked like she was a WAAF rather than ATS, so presumably she belonged to the base.

"Where are we?" asked Hayter, looking around, but it was hard to make out much in the dark, despite the moonlight.

"RAF Northholt," replied Harry. "It's north-west of London. Closest we could get you tonight."

Without the noise of engines speech was possible at last.

"D'you always get chauffeured like this?" asked Garrison.

The Captain snorted. "Not me this time. Whilst we were waiting for you I asked Harry who'd swung this. He said they needed someone who knew us both and could make the trip. The old girl..." Garrison assumed Hayter was referring to the plane. "...is too slow for frontline work anymore, but she's a good ferry for supplies and the Exeter top brass when they need to get to London."

"She's not the only one that's too old," commented Harry, "I got pensioned off too." He'd caught them up and was carrying two kitbags. Diesel was lagging behind, a feed sack thrown over his shoulder. Garrison could see the young Indian was limping slightly. Clearly Hayter's mission hadn't been injury free.

They arrived at the car together where the driver was holding a rear door open. Hayter took his bags from Harry and clambered into the vehicle. Garrison made his way around to the other side where he also had the door held open for him. The driver left Diesel to make his own way to the unoccupied front seat.

Hayter leant back against the seat, searching in his pockets for a packet of cigarettes, before realising that he didn't have any.

Garrison pulled a packet from the top pocket of his uniform and offered one to the other officer before taking one himself and lighting both. "Did you run out over there?"

Hayter gave a grunt of affirmation. "Sort of. They were confiscated. 'Nursey' decided they weren't good for me."

Craig heard the snort from upfront and realised that there was probably a good story behind that short statement. It also showed that Diesel's hearing was as sharp as Chief's was.

Both men relaxed and concentrated on their cigarettes, letting the nicotine take effect.

Twenty minutes later the big car pulled in through a pair of tall gates and up a curved driveway to the front of a large detached Victorian house. It had quite a grand entrance with a porch and portico supported by two painted concrete pillars.

The WAAF jumped out and opened the rear doors, leaving Diesel to let himself out. "Just let the sergeant know when you're ready to leave and I'll come and get you." She saluted smartly before getting back into the staff car and driving away.

The front door opened, showing just a chink of light between the blackout curtains. "Gentlemen, everyone else is here, if you can make your way upstairs when you're ready."

Although the light in the hallway was poor it let Garrison see for the first time that Diesel wasn't the only one carrying injuries. They might be fading now but there were still scabs and yellowing bruises on Hayter's face. He'd been given a pretty major going-over and it hadn't been too long ago. Now he was looking he could also see that the officer wasn't moving quite normally either, although he was trying hard to disguise it.

As the three started to climb the stairs the sergeant tapped Diesel on the arm, something the young Mohawk hated. He snapped his head around to glare at the Army man. "Sorry sir, they said just the officers, but if you come with me through to the kitchen there's some nice comfy chairs and a cup of tea should you be wanting one."

"Coffee," replied Diesel sharply. He still didn't like tea, however much Sapper and Magpie had tried to convince him.

"Yes, coffee too. It's real as well. None of this chicory stuff."

Diesel flicked his eyes to look his CO and got an affirmatory nod. That was fine with him, he'd rather not spend hours listening to whatever it was that had meant they'd been hijacked on landing in England. He followed the sergeant down the corridor and into a spacious rear room, equipped with a gas stove, kitchen table and hard chairs and a couple of battered arm chairs. The Indian helped himself to a mug of coffee and selected the arm chair in the corner, the one that gave him the best view of the room. His injured leg was aching badly and the support was chafing. The padding must have worked loose during the journey.

Diesel unbuckled the leather brace that protected his lower leg and propped the aching limb on one of the kitchen chairs. It would be a while before he could take Chief on again over the obstacle course, he thought. Even if he ever got to meet Garrison's man again.

"Lieutenant Garrison. Captain Hayter." The familiar voice of Major Richards, Garrison's immediate boss, stopped them in their tracks. "If I could have a word please."

The two men in question looked at each other then reversed their direction.

They were shown into the front room of the house. The room was cold and dusty and there was a dead pot plant on a table by the window. The major closed the door behind him and flicked the light switch.

"Major, what's this about? I get pulled off a mission to retrieve some papers then flown over half of Europe to come to a briefing that you could have done at the Mansion tomorrow."

Hayter was surprised at the anger in the Lieutenant's voice.

This isn't about your last mission Garrison, or yours either for that matter Hayter. There are some important people up there who will be asking you a lot of questions. I wanted you to know that you can answer those questions as if it was a standard debrief. The hope is that one or both of you might be able to shed some light on a matter of Allied Security."

The major was already making his way to the door. "Oh, I'll have those papers now, if you please."

Garrison slid his hand inside his jacket and, extracting the packet he'd been given back in France, handed it over.

"You any the wiser?" The Captain asked as they once again made their way side-by-side up the stairs. Garrison shook his head.

A door opened upstairs and a young man wearing a civilian suit gestured for the men to join them. He did a double-take when he saw the state of Hayter's face, but quickly masked his expression.

There were five other people waiting for the two Special Forces officers. Garrison only recognised one man, US Army Intelligence's General Parker. In addition there was the young man that had greeted them, a British Army Major, a slim man with light brown hair, probably in his early 40's, another older man with balding head and a moustache wearing a suit and tie and a very tall, muscular lady with short hair. She was nearly tall enough to look Garrison in the eye, which would have made her almost 6ft he thought.

The Amazon stepped forward to greet the new arrivals. "Stuart, Craig, I'm Pamela. I'm sorry for dragging you here tonight in such a clandestine fashion when you've only just landed and I appreciate that it's late, but it's important that this meeting takes place before anyone knows you're both back in the country."

"Now everyone, I know most of you know each other but we'd prefer it to stay on first name terms if you wouldn't mind. No ranks whilst everyone is in this room. If anyone needs a break once we've started, Tony will accompany you. I would also appreciate it if you wouldn't mind turning out your pockets and let Tony check you over. We can't be too careful."

Garrison's pockets only revealed the cigarettes and lighter he'd used earlier and a few small coins. Hayter had even less, just a rather dirty handkerchief that had held the sandwiches their operative had thrust into his hand in France. The other men must have already gone through this, as Tony left them alone.

Pamela took her seat at the table and motioned to everyone else to sit as well. Her aide set himself up on a chair by the door. No-one was taking notes Garrison noticed.

"I'll apologise for the secrecy around this meeting, but as I think you are all aware it would seem that we have a mole somewhere in our organisations that has been causing an inordinate amount of damage to our special operations teams. We expect attrition, it's the nature of the work we do, but this has been very targeted and has hit hard against some of our most experienced units." Pamela's eyes swept the faces of the men in front of her. She knew that none of this was new news.

"We're hoping that between the group in this room we might be able to find a common denominator amongst the missions that have gone awry."

Pamela paused and took a sip of water. "In the room today we have William representing the US Army Intelligence Service, Maurice who is SOE F-Section and Graham who is SIS. Craig and Stuart are both US Army Special Forces. We should also have had Monique who headed an equivalent SOE unit but I'm afraid she didn't make it back."

Garrison got the impression that Monique wasn't just late.

"Our purpose tonight is to get your perspectives, gentlemen. From your position at the coal-face, shall we call it, it is very likely that you'll have some insights that we aren't aware of."

"Specifically can you take us through things that went wrong with your missions since the start of July this year. Stuart, if you wouldn't mind starting - yours are probably the simplest to cover." Pamela sat back in her chair and waited.

Hayter tried to marshall his thoughts. He would normally have had more time to prepare for a debriefing. This had come as rather a surprise. He took a deep breath and began.

"As you know, getting our teams into and out of Europe in the last few months has been a nightmare. My men were chosen to take part in an experiment where we would stay under cover for an extended period and carry out multiple missions. We would be supplied by the Resistance and via supply drops from England. My team was chosen because we were just coming back on stream having had to replace two members. Everyone was fit and rested and it was unlikely that many people knew about us."

"Our safe house had been prepared by an SOE agent, code-named Vixen, and was in a secluded location but not too far from main road and rail links. The local Resistance were a small but well established and cohesive group. We parachuted in at the end of July from RAF Tempsford. No injuries and all our supply boxes were retrieved intact. We undertook our first mission about ten days later - it had taken longer than we'd anticipated for the Resistance to supply all the things we needed."

"Vixen?" interrupted Pamela, her professional mask slipping for a moment. "Did she insist on being called Nicole?" She looked at the SOE boss who nodded in confirmation. "I'm sorry to have interrupted Stuart, please continue." The mask was back in place.

She knows that operative, concluded Garrison. Knows her and is worried about her.

The Captain resumed his story. "The mission itself was successful, but we were ambushed at our refuelling stop on the way back. We managed to escape with no injuries, but the vehicle was destroyed. It seemed likely that someone had betrayed the location of the stop-over."

"For the second mission we didn't involve anyone outside of our team and our own Resistance cell. We did get picked up by a patrol, but there was no indication that this was anything other than bad luck. Unfortunately in the chase one of my men was thrown from the vehicle and hit by a motorcycle. He had multiple injuries, including a broken leg."

So that was why Diesel was limping so badly, thought Garrison.

Hayter continued. "Nicole radioed her contacts in London, but they rejected any attempt to pull out the injured man. Instead it was proposed that a replacement was sent in. I don't know who selected the replacement or why, but all I can say was it was a very bad decision."

Parker looked at Graham and Maurice but both shook their heads. "I'll follow up on that one," offered the General. 

"Anyway, our mission was to sabotage a convoy of materials that were being taken to a construction site. The site was thought to be one for the new flying rockets the Nazi's are supposed to be building. Turned out the Germans had the place surrounded. They waited until we were all in the compound, switched on the floodlights and raked the place with machine gun fire. The new team member bolted. One of my men tried to grab her and both were killed. I and my other man surrendered."

Hayter could see the surprise on everyone's faces when he said 'her', even Garrison's face had shown some emotion.

"Was your new recruit a convict or a trained operative?" asked Pamela.

"Convict," replied Hayter, "and with minimal training." 

"What happened next?"

"We were taken to the jail in the nearby town. It's a civilian jail and doesn't normally hold many prisoners, but it was packed tight. The Germans had rounded up most of the local Resistance and thrown them in there."

"And you were interrogated?"

"Yes."

"Did they know who you were?"

"Yes, they knew my name and rank. They didn't know my other man though. It made me think that their information might have been out of date."

"Did they interrogate your other man? Which one was it?"

"Sapper - Mr Higgins. He was British Army, a Royal Engineer. Technically he was a con as well, but not a career criminal. His CO said he'd deserted under fire during the Dunkirk evacuation. I got the feeling it wasn't quite true. Anyway, so far as I could tell they worked out pretty quickly he didn't know anything, so they shot him."

"But you escaped?"

"Not really - I was rescued. My conman, Monaco, wasn't captured. He managed to get word back to our base and they got together with some guys from the Resistance and broke me out. They also blew up part of the jail and released all of the prisoners."

Garrison dropped his head so as to hide the small smile on his face. He knew exactly how economical with words his fellow officer was being. This was definitely a story he would like to hear in more detail, perhaps one night over a glass of JD.

"We can still see some of the effects of your interrogation Stuart, we also understand that you were probably subjected to some mind-altering substances. Were you aware of that?"

How did they know that? thought Hayter. He was sure that it hadn't been mentioned in Nicole's transmissions. She'd done everything she could to keep his ordeal quiet.

"Yes, so far as I'm aware that was true, but I have no memory of the interrogation or what I might have said." For the first time Hayter's professional mask slipped. So much for making amends for what had happened in North Africa, he thought.

Graham spoke for the first time. "We have the transcript of your interrogation, Stuart. We were fortunate that it crossed the desk of a friend of ours. Your colleague Craig has just returned from an urgent mission to retrieve it."

Hayter glanced at Garrison again and this time took in how tired the Lieutenant actually was under that neat exterior. He wondered if the Lieutenant knew what he'd been sent to pick up and concluded that he probably did.

"Any questions gentlemen?" Pamela looked around the table expectantly.

"Just the one..." it was General Parker. "What happened to your conman, Monaco was it?"

"I had to leave him behind. Instructions from SOE were that only the two injured people were to be flown out." Hayter's expression when he looked at Maurice showed real anger, although his voice had remained calm.

"And do you know where he is now?"

"Sorry sir, I'm afraid I don't know."

He's lying, thought Garrison and Parker knows it. It sounded like Hayter and Monaco trusted each other like he did with Actor. If Monaco was missing, the Captain had probably made him leave. That probably meant that Hayter didn't expect to put his team together for a third time.

"Craig, what about your missions? I know you've been going out much more often than Stuart and even running short-handed when your men have been injured, so it might be more difficult for you to pinpoint the trips where you think there might have been a leak on our side, but anything you can think of would be appreciated."

Craig had had the time when Stuart was speaking to run through his recent missions and try and isolate the ones that might be candidates. It might have helped if his brain hadn't been so fogged from tiredness.

"I can think of four off the top of my head. There was one in August, two in September and one at the beginning of October. Since then we've had a few problems but nothing that I would say fits the pattern. All four have been in northern France or Belgium. We had a con in Belgium where they were expecting us. One of the Germans recognised Actor. Actor's pretty well known in some places, so I didn't think anything of it at the time, but looking back I don't think he really knew him. I think he'd been shown a picture or had a description. The pick up went wrong on that one too. Our plane got hit by flak and had to abort. In the end we hitched a ride on a fishing boat. Again it could have been bad luck, but I think someone knew it was coming."

"The August ones were really close together. The first one was to escort a defecting scientist, the second to collect some papers from a local SS building. Chief got shot on the first one and I got creased by a bullet on the second. Again, they knew how we were coming in and where we'd be and what our target was. We aborted the second one. We were one down anyway what with Chief being in hospital, I couldn't put everyone in that much risk."

"And the October one?" prompted Pamela.

"That was a raid on a bank vault. We had plans and everything. It should have been a cinch, but the alarm system had been changed completely and it was swarming with guards. Nearly lost Casino on that one. If it hadn't been for a bit of quick thinking by Goniff they'd have got him."

Garrison's brain had been working overtime whilst he was speaking and as he finished he looked at Hayter then at Maurice. "Who does secretarial cover when someone is on leave?"

Maurice shrugged. I don't know. I assumed the girls just covered for each other when someone was off. I can't say I've paid much attention. But if it's affecting F-Section and the US Army surely it can't be the same person.

An image flashed into Hayter's head. "Garrison, do you remember a pretty little dark-haired ATS girl that covered for the Major's regular secretary? Always extra helpful, would go get coffees, offer to make phone calls to the base, all that sort of stuff?" Hayter remembered her well but wasn't about to admit just how well they'd become acquainted in the few days before he'd flown to France. He'd been lonely and she'd been interested.

The Lieutenant searched his memory and eventually recalled not just a face, but a name. "Karen? Karen Smallwood?" He suspected he knew just how the girl had come into the Captain's mind. She'd come on pretty strong to him at times and it had only been by chance that he'd not taken it further.

"Maurice, how about Monique's missions. I assume you have her debriefing notes from the period even if we don't know what went wrong on the last one?" Pamela prompted.

The F-Section man looked uncomfortable, which made Garrison wonder why. Finally Maurice looked up. "We have a Diane Smallwood. She does my emergency secretarial cover. I'd forgotten about her, but I remember now. She typed up the briefing notes for Monique's last mission."

Pamela's face was expressionless as she absorbed what had been said. If she was a betting person, which she wasn't, she'd bet that there would be a new head of F-Section before too long.

"Joanne Smallwood." That last was from Tony over by the door. She's WAAF not ATS and it was her that drove you here this evening. The other two are her sisters."

Pamela took a hard look at her young aide who was now bright red and staring at the floor. The oldest con in the world, she thought. The honey trap. She took a deep breath. "So far this is just circumstantial, but I think we need to talk to those girls as a matter of urgency. If they are our moles they're not running this on their own. Someone recruited them, now we need to find out who."

Pamela tapped a thumb nail thoughtfully against her top lip. "Tony, did you say the WAAF driver was waiting to take these officers back to Northolt?"

Tony nodded. He still couldn't meet his bosses eye.

"Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind waiting here a moment I have some phone calls to make." Pamela swept out of the room, intent on her mission.

It was about thirty minutes before Pamela returned. The little WAAF was in detention and wheels were now in motion to pull in the other two girls for questioning. They might not yet know who their Mr Big was, but if nothing else it seemed likely they'd damaged his network.

The meeting broke up shortly afterwards although General Parker made a point of talking to Pamela as he left "I have an idea who might have assigned the girl to Hayter's team," he said quietly. "I'll let you know, but if it's who I think it is, it's a personal vendetta and unrelated to this other matter." He glanced across at his two young officers but they were deep in conversation over the other side of the room and not listening.

Pamela nodded. She had a feeling they were just scratching the surface of this, but at least a start had been made. She glanced at her watch. It wasn't quite midnight although it felt later. Now she just wanted to get home to her Mews cottage and relax with a glass of single malt. It had been a tough day.

In the corner, Hayter was taking quietly to Garrison. "Do you know what was in that document you brought back?"

"Yes, it was in German, but I did read it."

"Was it my interrogation transcript?" Hayter was clearly badly worried.

"You didn't tell them anything that had any relevance to your current assignment or put anyone at risk." Garrison smiled, wondering if his fellow officer was up to a little teasing and decided he was. "You were quite graphic about a little dark-haired ATS girl and someone from the farm you were staying at, called Rachelle?"

Garrison knew just how unpredictable so-called truth drugs could be and that 'confessions' could as easily be fantasies as reality. It looked as if what the German's had extracted from the Captain was the truth - just not the one they wanted!

##### 

GG GG GG GG

"I guess we need a lift home now." said Garrison wryly as they descended the staircase to retrieve Diesel from the kitchen. "I doubt I'd stay awake long enough to get back to the Mansion."

"Me neither," agreed Hayter. Oddly, despite being exhausted he felt better about himself than he'd done for a long time.

Diesel was fast asleep in his chair, looking strangely young and vulnerable in his relaxed state.

Chief looks like that when he's asleep too," commented the Lieutenant. "How old's your man?"

"Twenty-five going on sixty. How about Chief?"

A bit younger. Not much in it. How did you find Diesel He wasn't on our lists was he?

"As I said, all my team were found for me. Someone knew exactly what they were looking for and maybe spread the net a bit wider... Mexico and Canada for a start.

But Diesel's American. What's his real name?

"Samuel Gray. I think the governor hid his dossier away. He liked the boy. Possibly had plans of his own for him. As for Hal, you'd probably not have considered him as he couldn't do safes, just demolition."

"You're protective of Diesel aren't you?"

Hayter laughed. "Yes, but don't worry, my tastes are entirely conventional as you now know. Come on, let's wake up sleeping beauty and see if we can't get ourselves a ride."

Diesel opened one eye and looked up at his boss. He'd been awake since the two men had opened the door, but had happily played possum. It was amazing what you learned that way.

In the end it was the desk sergeant that took everyone back to Northholt. Harry was excavated from his comfortable chair by the fire in the canteen and persuaded to make one final flight that night to the base nearest to the Mansion. 

It was about 3am when a purloined USAAF jeep made it to the Spanish-style manor house and three exhausted men crawled up the steps into the ground-floor common room. Harry had been invited to join them, but as usual had declined, preferring to doss down on the base where he could guarantee a good supply of food and drink. He'd be taking the Anson back to Devon the next day anyway.

"I doubt there'll be anything to eat," apologised Garrison, leading the way to the kitchen, "unless it's Spam."

His nose told him something different though. Sat on the kitchen table was a note written in Actor's elegant script. "Chief had a little success today, it's in the warming oven." Inside the oven was an enamel casserole dish partially filled with a rabbit and vegetable stew, perhaps a little dryer now than it had been, but still ambrosia to three men that hadn't eaten anything but sandwiches for a long time.

They pushed the plates away, now satisfied and relaxed. "Same room as before?" Diesel asked, getting to his feet.

"Probably, but check before you go barging in. We sometimes get unexpected visitors and I wouldn't want either of you getting a surprise." Garrison and Hayter listened for a moment but there was no sound of screams from anyone upstairs so it seemed likely the room was vacant.

"I have a favour to ask of you in the morning, Garrison. I think we're both too tired tonight though and it can wait."

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Normally when Garrison came back from a mission he struggled to sleep, regardless of how tired he was. It would take time for the adrenaline to reduce enough to let him rest. This time though when he finally awoke his alarm clock read 1 o'clock. He knew it had probably been about 3:30am when he'd come up which meant he'd just had over 9 hours solid sleep - and no-one had woken him.

His next conscious thought was that something had happened to his men. It was impossible that he could have slept through a morning of Casino, Chief and Goniff's bickering. It just didn't happen unless they'd had a skin full at the Doves last night.

He started to prise himself upright. Ablutions first, he thought - a shower and shave. If the boys were in trouble it could wait half an hour.

His worst suspicions were confirmed as he went into the common room. The only occupants were his two guests. Hayter was reading the newspaper and Diesel was looking absorbed with Chief's chess game.

"Have you seen them?"

Hayter smiled. The Lieutenant's men were a little more independently minded than his had been. "No, I've not been awake long myself, but there was another of those pretty notes from Actor saying he'd taken them shopping and would be back for lunch." He looked at his watch. 

Almost dead on two, the crunch of tyres on the gravel announced the return of the missing convicts. They had clearly been to the pub, but no-one was drunk and their arms were filled with bags of food.

"Ah Lieutenant, I trust you didn't mind me keeping them occupied whilst you slept?"

"No Actor, I didn't mind," responded Garrison resignedly. The Army probably wouldn't be too pleased that they'd spent the entire month's petty cash in one day, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Don't worry - we used some of our own funds."

That worried Garrison even more. For his boys to have funds probably meant something illegal had gone on whilst he'd been away.

"Warden, now would we?" asked Goniff, recognising the look on the Lieutenant's face.

Hayter smiled and focused on the newsprint in front of him.

Chief had spotted Diesel at the chess board when he'd come in, but the other Indian had moved quickly away. Chief quickly ran an eye over the pieces, but nothing had been moved.

"Which are you playing, black or white," asked Diesel, moving closer again.

"Both. Just learning though."

"Mind if I join you?"

Chief nodded, letting Diesel take a seat on the side with the black pieces." The two settled down to play companionably in silence.

Hayter caught Garrison's eye. "Have you time for that chat now?" The Lieutenant nodded.

"My office." He led the way, Hayter following closely behind.

The Captain closed the door carefully behind him. This needed to be a private conversation just between the two officers. "I have to go back to the States. I've been recalled."

"How did you..."

"Find out? Harry passed it to me when we got back to Northholt."

"D'you know what it's about?"

"I can guess. My record this last year doesn't look too good, but I don't think I'm going to be kicked out. My guess is I'll end up doing Special Ops work with the regular army again, just not undercover. That favour though. I can't take Diesel back with me on this trip. They'll just stick him straight back inside."

Hayter paused to watch the expression on the other man's face.

"I can't have him in my team."

"No, I understand that. He needs another month anyway before he can be signed off to resume duties. If I can persuade my bosses just to let him recuperate here, would you have him?"

"What about when we're away?"

"He won't run. He made someone a promise and whatever he is he doesn't break promises. All he needs is to be able to get outside and walk or run. Just have the sky over his head. And maybe access to some books... our agent was teaching him French... perhaps Actor could make sure he doesn't forget it all?"

Garrison was feeling swayed. He was taking a liking to the young Mohawk too and he and Chief seemed to be getting along quite well. It might work. He made a decision. "OK, I'll try, but if it doesn't work out..."

Hayter nodded. "Understood... he does have one other skill your men might appreciate..."

Garrison tipped his head in enquiry.

"He can cook. But they'll have to do the dishes."

Garrison finally laughed out loud. Now that was bribery.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Hayter borrowed Garrison's car and drove himself into London for his debriefing. To his surprise he wasn't met by his usual major but rather his Colonel and General Parker.

The General had what looked like a set of dossiers in front of him. Dossiers that looked suspiciously like the ones that Stuart had last seen locked in the filing cabinet of his office in Devon. He could tell by the coffee stain on the top one.

"At ease, Captain. You can sit down. We know you're still suffering from the after-effects of that beating you took."

Hayter sat.

"Interesting meeting the other night. Learned a lot. Perhaps our sections should get together a bit more often rather than fighting." The General looked to be contemplating, but then snapped out of it.

"What was it between you and Major Avery?" It was such a shift in direction that Hayter was left behind for a moment.

"He was the prosecuting officer at my court-martial."

Parker flipped over one of the dossiers and scanned a page or two. "You took a gun off your commanding officer and threatened him with it?"

"Yes sir, it was at Safi. The French had us pinned down on the beaches and to start with there was no covering fire from the ships. I chose to take my men off the beach and find some cover. My C/O wanted us to stay put... threatened me with his gun... so I took the gun off him and we left anyway."

"The tribunal found against me for attacking a superior officer, but were in my favour for protecting my men. So, I was allowed to keep my stripes and given a second chance, somewhere that my 'maverick tendencies' as they called it could be put to better use." Hayter gave a wry smile.

The Colonel looked surprised. "That wasn't on the record?"

Now it was Parker's turn to look amused. "I think you have the sanitised version, Colonel. I think Avery took it badly when he lost - he was good friends with the man he was representing. He happened to be in the right place at the right time to hear you needed a replacement and used his contacts in the prison service to make sure you were allocated 'somebody suitable'."

"Is he aware that he got three people killed?" Hayter was angry and snapped at the General. He hadn't known Sapper and Magpie long, but long enough to know that they had a good team there, given time.

"Easy soldier," the Colonel said, as calmly as he could. It wouldn't do the Captain any good to go attacking another officer, especially one as senior as the General. He was getting cut some slack at the moment, but there was a limit.

"Sorry Sir." Hayter sat down again and took a steadying breath.

"He does now," confirmed Parker. "It's being dealt with. Now what we need to decide is what to do with you. You've just the one man left and he's injured. I'm told it will be a few weeks before they sign him off and I gather the other one is out of reach now?"

"Yes Sir."

"Probably for the best. I suggest we mark his record 'Missing in Action'. That should cover most eventualities I would have thought. What about the other one, the young Indian?"

"I'd like to keep him with me, Sir. I think he's worth it."

The General looked thoughtful. "I take it you don't want another team?"

"No sir. But it had crossed my mind that there's a role out there in Italy for someone like me. Liaising with the Partisans on behalf of the Army, and we need every good scout we can get."

The General smiled again and caught the Colonel's eye. "I assume you can handle that from now on, Nigel?" The Colonel nodded.

"What about the deep cover experiment. Do you think it's worth repeating?"

"In all honesty, Sir. No, I don't. It was too hard to get the supplies and we weren't near enough to the places we needed to be for the jobs we needed to do. That and the risks of being caught. I think we were lucky our base was never found."

Parker nodded. "I agree with you Captain. I'm sorry you had to lose two good men in the process."

The General picked up his things and made to leave. "Interesting reading that interrogation of yours, Captain. It shows how unreliable those truth drugs are." He smiled and walked out of the door, pulling it gently closed behind him.

The Colonel looked askance at Hayter who just blanked his face and stared back. If the Colonel hadn't been told, he wasn't about to enlighten him.

"Right then Captain. Let's sort out the paperwork. We'll arrange a flight back to the States for you and set up a meeting with your new unit. Not much point you going back to Devon is there?"

Hayter shook his head.

"In that case I'll arrange for the rest of your things to be brought up here. Any idea where you'll be staying?"

"Lieutenant Garrison has offered the Mansion. It will work for Mr Gray too."

"In that case I'll have Mr Gray's effects taken there too. Mr Higgins' and Mr O'Horan's things will go to their next of kin along with their personal effects you brought back from France. That just leaves Mr Michelli?"

Hayter already knew what his conman wanted. "Burn them, Sir. There was nothing he wanted saved." That wasn't quite the truth, but the Captain knew where to leave the things he was looking after until they were needed.

"In that case, Captain, I'll bid you good day." The Colonel pushed the pile of dossiers across the desk. "I'll let you deal with these. Make sure they're destroyed before you leave for the States." 

"Yes Sir."

##### 

GG GG GG GG

Back at the Mansion, Lieutenant Garrison wearily headed for his office, his own debriefing completed. A pile of paperwork had developed on the desk whilst he'd been away - he often wondered how that happened. The clerks should have been able to deal with most of it, but it rarely happened. Uncharacteristically he turned his back on it. It would wait.

"Fancy a run Chief?" His Scout was perched in his usual place by the window, partly looking outside and partly watching Diesel plan his move at the chess board.

Chief nodded and got to his feet. He'd already run once, but it was more fun when it was a race. "You comin' Mohawk?"

Diesel shook his head and pulled his trouser leg up to reveal the brace that supported his fracture. "Have to wait 'til this comes off."

"Whaddya do?" Chief was looking with interest at the leather brace. It would easily adapt to take a couple of knives, he thought.

"Fell out of a truck shooting Krauts then got run over by one of their motorcycles. Just careless I guess." Diesel laughed wryly. "The local doctor had the cobbler make this so I could get the cast off early. If he hadn't we'd have lost Hayter as well as Sapper and Magpie."

It was the first Chief had heard of the problems the other team had had. He'd see if the Warden would tell him more while they ran.

"We'll get you another x-ray next week." Garrison had reappeared now dressed in fatigues.

Diesel turned his attention back to the chess game, but he wasn't really concentrating. Finally he gave up and went and got changed himself. He might not be allowed to run yet but he could do pull-ups and curls and the exercises the doctor back in Lisieux had given him. At least it took his mind off Nicole.

Casino, Goniff and Actor rolled back in at lunchtime, looking somewhat sorry for themselves. Today had been a punishment detail for a brawl at the Doves just before their last mission. They thought they'd got away with it, but the Warden had a long memory and had just waited until there was a clear day with no prospect of a mission. 'Punishment' had involved cleaning out the pig pen and chicken run behind the pub and all three were now liberally splattered and stank to high heaven.

"How come Chiefy got away with this," complained Goniff.

"He wasn't with us that night if you remember," supplied Actor. "He said he had other business somewhere."

"Yeah, blonde business with legs up to her..."

"Casino, Goniff, Actor - get out and get cleaned up." The return of the Warden prevented the safecracker from providing any more detail on what had diverted Chief that night.

It was dark before Hayter returned from London. "It's on. I fly back to the States in a couple of days. He looked at Diesel lounged in the spare chair in Garrison's office. "You prefer to stay here rather than come back with me?"

"Uh huh - providing it's OK with him." The Indian tipped his head towards the Lieutenant sat on the other side of the desk.

"It's fine with me, providing he doesn't forget to come back and get you."

"I won't forget." Hayter slapped his scout on the shoulder.

Garrison waited until Diesel had left the room and the door had closed behind him before unearthing a bottle of Irish Whisky and two glasses from his desk drawer. He poured a large measure into both glasses and passed one across the table to his fellow officer.

"Can I be curious? Who exactly was Nursey and how the hell did you get out of that prison?"

Hayter laughed. "In answer to the first - that was Nicole, our operative. That was one feisty lady." He shook his head at the memory. "Spent four months with her and had no idea she was half-English - or that she was the grand-daughter of a British Army General. You can see why she could con the Germans. We lived with her all that time and were none the wiser. I didn't even know she could shoot until she went out hunting with Diesel one day and they came back with two wild pigs."

"It was her and Diesel and Monaco that pulled the con to get me out of the prison. Diesel had got bored hanging around the Barn whilst we were on the last mission and persuaded Nicole to go with him and steal a car - not just a car, a Field Marshall's car. When they came to get me all three were dressed in German uniforms, Nicole, as wheelman, with one of those silly helmets rammed over her ears to hide her hair. Monaco and Diesel just walked into the jail, cool as you like, shot the guards and dragged me out between them." Hayter shook his head at the memory.

Hayter took a sip at his whisky, and his face became more serious for a moment. "You probably should know if you're going to be babysitting Diesel... things between him and Nicole got pretty serious. He's going to need a bit of time.

Garrison nodded. He knew what it could be like.

The Captain downed the last of his drink and replacing the glass on the other officer's desk, stood up. "Rachelle... that story I'll keep to myself." 

##### 

GG GG GG GG

The lorry carrying their personal effects arrived the next day. Diesel's were minimal, just a couple of changes of clothes and a small wooden cigar box that contained a few mementoes. Not much to show for twenty five years he thought as he stowed the things in the locker he'd been given. Hayter had quite a bit more, but most of it he'd be taking back to the States - it wasn't likely he'd need a base in England again.

"You sure you don't want me to take anything back with me?"

"Nah, nothing to take and nowhere to put it over there either."

Hayter headed outside with his arms full of papers and headed for the 40 gallon oil drum that doubled as an incinerator. Diesel wandered after him for no good reason except company. He watched idly as file after file fed the flames. "Those our dossiers?"

"Yes. Don't need them any more apart from yours and Garrison's got that one for now."

One folder remained. The Captain glanced inside it thoughtfully then carefully removed the id photograph from the front page before consigning the remainder to the fire. As he headed back towards the house he handed the small black and white to Diesel. "Something to remember her by."


End file.
